The Things They Carried - Pilot Episode
by sayain673
Summary: For the one hundred thousand American players that suddenly found themselves trapped in the Land of Wen, the release date of Elder Tale's latest expansion pack "Homesteading the Novasphere" was the end of everything they once knew and held dear. This is a tale of those pioneers, and the things they carried with them into a brave, new world. [Rating subject to change.]


After the grievous loss of all my previous fics on my previous laptop, I return to Fanfiction, armed with new fandoms, a new laptop, and this nifty external backup hard drive in case my computer begins to smoke. To my regret, it is highly unlikely that I will revisit the stories I had typed up in my youth, as the notes and rough drafts have been lost in the previous computer. Maybe one day I shall return, but today is not that day.

Log Horizon is severely lacking in Fanfiction of servers other than Japan. And now that the second season is over and more information about the world has been given to us, I'm dusting off the accumulated dust that's been built up on this account and contributing my own story to the Database.

And you know what the best part is? Touno Mamare, the author of Log Horizon, has been known to approve of fan-based creations that people will write and sanction them as canon in the Log Horizon universe. One of the most famous of these creations is "D.D.D. Diaries", which tells the day-to-day stories about the members of D.D.D. and their infamous leader, Krusty (yes, I spell his name with a K). A common theory for this is the intentional lack of detail regarding the other severs save for Japan, which is further backed up by him stating that he wants other people to experience their own stories.

The big end goal down the line is for him to read this story and make it canon. A pipe dream, I know, but a man can dream.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Log Horizon, nor do I intend to use this story as a means to generate revenue for myself. The distinct honor of the original source material goes to Touno Mamare, one of the most based authors to ever write light novels. Seriously, the man held an AMA on 4chan no less than three times. If that doesn't make him one of the most highly respected authors in the genre, then I don't know what does.

* * *

**Pilot 0.1**

The captain handed me a spyglass, scrutinizing the shoreline with a critical eye before he pointed at something far away that I couldn't see. "There, right at the curve."

I accepted it and held it to my eye, trying my best to find the direction he had gestured towards. Beyond the tip of the forest, the mountain range had consumed the sun, leaving nothing but faint orange slips in the evening sky. Some of the shadows were moving on the edge of the riverbank. Because of the distance, I had no small amount of difficulty trying to separate them from the stagnant darkness. Felix had no such handicap, and I suspected that it had to do with the fact that he had whiskers, padded hands and eyes that had more rods and cones.

"I see them," I muttered, wrinkling my nose in disgust. The breeze that came down from the north carried over the stench of the monsters. It smelled disgusting, an unholy fusion of unwashed bodies and rotten meat. I wasn't oblivious to the sound of the soldiers on deck vomiting over the side. "Those are definitely river trolls."

While I did feel my own gorge faintly rising, I wasn't about to pollute the river. As their leader, I couldn't show them any sign of weakness. To them, I was the paragon of how a soldier was supposed to carry him or herself. Vomiting was not included on the list of acceptable behaviors. But I still managed to feel sorry for the lot of them.

The monster in my sights was a definite thug. It wore the same tattered animal furs and bone armor, but my no means was it as passive as its forest brethren. The things might has well have been the poster child of its entire genetic offshoot. Blue-green skin and teeth the size of my forearm, and a lumbering body that would make a bodybuilder blush, evolution had spat that thing out with all that it needed to survive in the temperate forests of the Peninsula.

I squinted harder, and a banner visible only to me appeared above its head.

**River Troll Brute  
****[Lv. 36]  
{100/100% HP}**

After a sweep of the entire shore, I discovered that the rest of them were similar to the one I'd spotted, both in appearance and in level. The line of my mouth twitched in displeasure. I estimated at least upwards of forty trolls, but no more than seventy. Compared to the last time I was in this area, that number was alarmingly high. That either meant that no one had the resources to properly cull their numbers or that the monsters were breeding faster than normally expected. I was not sure as to which one was scarier.

Scattered across the rocky shore, the tribe appeared to have made camp where the river bent sharply to the west. There was no fire in their enclosure, so I was forced to use the dying light of the sun as my primary source of illumination. I could see the faint outline of crude structures, overhangs probably made of thatch or wood, and the wooden walls that defended them from a land-based attack looked flimsy enough to topple with a single cough.

Actually, that was the Half-Alv standing next to me clearing his throat. From underneath the unicorn hair spun cloak draped across his shoulders, his hand was outstretched in my direction, with an eyebrow lifted in a non-questioning manner. I scowled, and wordlessly passed him the spyglass. Without even thanking me, he put it to his eye and began to look at the shoreline.

Cruven Blackstaff was a stuck up bastard, but not in the sense that he was illegitimate or that he had a stick up his ass. He looked, at a minimum, five or six years older than I was, but I couldn't trust my judgment given his heritage. He could have been, and probably was, at least twenty or thirty years my senior. But in spite of that, more gold than grey spilled out of his hood, and his eyes were an electric blue that betrayed his occupation as a sorcerer.

He was the personal adviser to Cromwell, as well as his representative for all of my missions. It was well known around the region that there was not one drop of royal blood flowing through his veins, despite his elevated status. Granted, the Confederation's military oligarchy did promote common folk based on skills and merit, but why the Lord Commander had him accompany me was beyond anyone's speculation. With that said however, Cruven certainly more than made up for his lack of pedigree by being as taciturn and overbearing as if he had one.

He only looked through the glass for a few seconds before he clicked his tongue in distaste. "So these are the monsters responsible for the destruction of Balehollow."

It might have been a rhetorical statement, but it was open ended enough for me to reply. "Undoubtedly. Their present numbers are more than enough to overwhelm the village militia, and they match the description that the survivors gave us right down to the teeth."

His mouth might have twitched in sardonic amusement. "Identifying factors aside, we now have our targets." He rubbed his hands in anticipation. "And your earlier suggestion for a land-based assault upon their discovery is very ill-advised given the current parameters. We'd have to come in from the north, and the winds would blow our scent right into their encampment."

I nearly rolled my eyes, but I remained nice. "Then what do you recommend as a course of action?"

"We stay on the ship," he stated matter-of-factly. "We have enough Flame and Black Fire Arrows to deforest that small part of the island. Regrettable for the surrounding forests, but it would be the ideal way to prevent them from settling. And from there, we can track and kill any survivors at our own pace in the days to come."

As much as I butted heads with the Half-Alv, I had to agree with his proposed suggestion. I didn't want to risk any of our soldiers in close-quarters melee, even though I was a level ninety Guardian and could easily draw the majority of their attention. Levels only meant so much when going up against so many numbers. I was strong, not suicidal, and even though it had been confirmed that Adventurers would still respawn if they died, I had no particular desire to experience the sensation. That went doubly so for the People of the Land, who had no unlimited number of retries after dying.

"You're chasin' after dangerous creatures," Captain Felix interrupted my train of thought. "There's enough of them to capsize this ship if we let the beasties too close."

Cruven raised an accusatory eyebrow. "You were well informed of the possible dangers we would be facing long before you signed our contract."

In response, the werecat gave him a smile that would have scared the color off a peacock. "Ah know. Just makin' an observation is all, milord."

The sorcerer appeared to be unamused. "In any event, it seems like we have our work cut out for us," he dryly commented. "Dispatching the creatures should be a relatively simple affair. We have plenty of long ranged weaponry, and myself and two Adventurers to make up for our strength and numbers should they try to board."

I took the pause after his last sentence to interject. "Yes, but you forgot about one thing."

"And what would that be?" he asked, puzzled.

"The telescope," I bluntly said, holding my hand out in a similar manner as he had done. "I wasn't finished scouting yet when you took it out of my hands. So I would very much like to have it back, if you please."

Cruven seemed to be shocked for only the briefest of moments before his composure returned. Scowling, he put the telescope in my hand, and as turned away to put it against my eye, he muttered something under his breath that he thought I couldn't hear. The surrounding ambiance did a good job of covering over his sotto, but I could still pick up his words about my recalcitrance being unbecoming of me as a woman.

The temptation to shove him over the side and into the water took more than a moment to overcome. When it passed, I returned to observing the camp. I only saw the cages during my second sweep when a cluster of trolls moved to the side and revealed them.

Included with their impressive resilience to physical damage, almost all trolls boasted a healing factor. Its strength and speed varied from species to species, but at its most virulent, it could potentially outheal inflicted damage within mere seconds of an attack. Gaping wounds would stitch themselves shut. Severed limbs sprout from bloody stumps. I even once saw two trolls emerge from the bisected halves of a single one.

The concept isn't too far removed from basic human biology. When I was in first grade, I accidentally cut my hand while making my father lunch. He applied a bandaid, kissed it to make it feel better, and assured me that the mark would go away as long as I left it alone. Three days later, lo and behold, and the only thing left was a small scar across my palm. Of course, it goes without saying that more serious wounds require equally longer time to heal.

But the big difference lied in the fact that a troll's physiology is capable of taking that three day period and shortening it to mere seconds. That was rapid cell division at a rate over a thousand times as fast as that of the average human being. I'm not a licensed physician, but I got enough lectures from my doctor to know that massive amounts of energy and biomass are required to sustain such recovery. Thus to prevent their bodies from eating themselves from the inside out, the monsters possessed a voracious appetite that required them to seek out and consume vast amounts of food.

The eldest couldn't have been more than fourteen. Dressed in bloody clothes and terrified beyond comprehension, they were huddled together in the tight confines of a cage that I suspected was made out of bones. The glass of the telescope was too warped for me to accurately take a head count, but I estimated at least a minimum of fifteen young prisoners of the trolls.

I felt my grip on the telescope tightening. This was bad. Real bad. There were supposed to be no other survivors than the ones that had fled to Portsmouth. Nobody save for them, they had said, could have escaped alive during the carnage. That had let us take comfort in the fact that we could simply exterminate the monsters without any worry for collateral damage. As a matter of fact, had Cruven not interrupted my observation, I would have given the order to proceed with our attack.

We were _that_ close to firebombing children along with the monsters. I felt a cold chill race up my spine, and I shuddered about the ramifications that would have come had we proceeded.

There was movement to the side, and I quickly adjusted my field of vision. A larger troll had moved towards the gathering of its smaller kin. The banner above its head identified it as the Champion of its tribe. Sneering, it swaggered towards the cage and put its face against the bars. The children recoiled and pressed themselves as far into their confinements as possible. The troll's body shook in what appeared to be guttural laughter as it pantomimed reaching out for the children.

It happened that quickly. I didn't have time to look away. One of the bigger kids suddenly moved, lunging at the troll with a piece of bone. The crude weapon made contact with the Champion, stabbing into the meaty flesh of its head. Roaring in pain, the champion grabbed hold of its attacker. It tore open the cage door and dragged him out, kicking and screaming, into the gathering of monsters. And without even pausing mid-stride, the troll swung its club down with all the force it could muster. Fifteen became fourteen, and the sands of the beach ran red with blood.

I could barely hear the other children's screams at my current distance, but I could still see their mouths working, gaping in terror, the blood-lust in the troll's eyes as it roared, and the cruel leers of the monsters as they laughed at the fear and terror of their captive audience.

I was only dimly aware of the sound of glass shattering, and then my view of the shoreline was no more.

Before I even knew it, Cruven had materialized by my side. "What happened?" He demanded. I couldn't tell if he was concerned over what had provoked my reaction or if he was angry that we had to reimburse Felix for his broken telescope. "What did you see?"

It took several deep breaths for my anger to return under my control. "It looks like there were a few survivors that didn't make it to Portsmouth," I said darkly. His eyes widened at the implication of my words. "There's been a change of plans. We're getting those prisoners out. And only when the last kid leaves are we going to firebomb those monsters to the depths of hell."

* * *

**Name: **Lucia Barley **  
Level: **90**  
Race: **Human**  
Class: **[Fortress] Guardian**  
Subclass: **Knight **  
HP: **13296**  
MP: **6783**  
Equipment: **

* **Voidblade**\- A Production-class long-sword made from Phantasmal-class items. Created from metal that fell from the sky, its black blade is said to shine with the radiance of a star to guide its wielder in her darkest hour. This is a great weapon with superb Strength and Stamina bonuses.

* **Bulwark of the North** \- A powerful shield with the icon of a tower emblazoned on its front. It is enchanted to match the physical parameters of its current wielder, and its basic defense capability is very high. The Bulwark has the special ability to amplify the aggro its wielder generates at-will. This is extremely useful when trying to manage large mobs of enemies spread out over a large area.

* **Protector's Pride - **A Phantasmal-class suit of grey plate armor received from the "Blood on the Ice" raid quest line that took place in the Northeastern United States. Forged using the same Alv metal alloy that composes the thickest layer of the Great Barrier Fortress, its magic properties greatly enhance the defensive capabilities of its wielder. It has a high resistance to debuffs, and provides an amazing Stamina bonus.


End file.
